Raven was in the greenhouse when Ethan found her.
Indominus was outside, visible through the glass as he moved along the eastern treeline, following his daily morning routine. Raven sat at the table by the south-facing windows, her transformation books open but her eyes fixed on Indominus, watching him with the focused attention she reserved for what she truly cared about.
Ethan entered the greenhouse, pulled out a chair, and sat across from Raven. He waited wordlessly, folding his hands and settling in until she shifted her attention from Indominus to him.
"I want to tell you about a place."
She shifted in her seat and turned her head away from the glass to face him directly.
"Hidden," he said. "Deliberately. From the east. The direction matters, and I'll explain why. My father mentioned it more than once." He told the story smoothly, having practiced it for months. "It's a city that doesn't show up on any regular map because the people there have kept it that way for centuries. Not because they're afraid, but because they prefer it. They don't want to be found by anyone who isn't looking for them on purpose."
Raven set her pen down on the open book in front of her, attention fully on Ethan now.
"What kind of city?" Raven said, encouraging him to continue.
"A city where creatures called myths by outsiders just live their lives," Ethan answered. "They're not oddities or relics—they belong. This place was always meant for them, and it understands them."
Raven was still, which was her fully attentive mode rather than her absent one.
"I've been thinking about the sanctuary," he went on. "About how you wanted it to be a place for things that have nowhere else. This city has creatures who've lived that way for a long time. If any want something different, maybe this house and grounds are what they need."
Raven leaned forward slightly, her gaze intent and unwavering, signaling she was already mentally preparing for the next steps.
"We won't take anything that doesn't want to go. Our purpose is to see what's there and if anyone desires something we can offer."
She glanced out the window of the greenhouse, following Indominus's movement as he roamed the grounds outside.
"When can we go?" Raven looked from the greenhouse back to Ethan.
"In a few days," Ethan replied. "But first, we need the Ancient One. The city's not on regular maps because it exists in a place those maps don't show. Someone who knows hidden places must direct us."
"I have the sling ring," she said. "We've visited Kamar-Taj before."
Raven looked at him with a special warmth reserved for true excitement. "I want to bring everyone—the entire household," she said.
"That was the plan," he said.
She nodded once, decisively, keeping her gaze on the glass as she made her decision quietly and without fuss.
"Three days," she said. "Then we go."
---
Thori had decided to stay close to Ethan on his first day at the house, and he hadn't changed his mind since.
He didn't hover—his dignity forbade it. He was simply present: outside with Ethan, in the kitchen with Ethan, at the edge of every room Ethan entered. He maintained this with steady patience.
By mid-morning, Ethan noticed it and addressed it directly.
"You're following me."
Thori looked at him. "You are strong," he said.
"And?"
Pausing, Thori appeared to consider whether there was an and.
"That is it. You are the strongest thing here. I stay near strong things."
Ethan considered this. The logic made sense, and he respected it. In Asgard or wherever Thori had lived before, organizing by strength was practical.
"What does that make the rest of the household?"
Thori turned his amber eyes across the grounds, where Raven was working with her books, Indominus was investigating the fence line, and Jean was visible through the library window.
"Also strong," he said. "But you are more."
Ethan accepted this. He wasn't about to argue with an Asgardian hellhound about who was in charge. Thori's version of the hierarchy was actually pretty accurate.
---
Thori and Indominus's relationship had been set up completely on Thori's terms, which was the only way Thori did things.
Thori decided to adopt Indominus as a little brother on his first full day at the house, acting on it without asking. The fact that Indominus was a young dinosaur and Thori an Asgardian hellhound, with no obvious reason for a family bond, didn't matter to Thori.
In the afternoon, Thori followed Indominus around, watching over him with the care of someone assuming a protective role. When Indominus misjudged a step and stumbled before regaining his balance, Thori was at his side before the stumble ended, moving calmly but without delay.
He did not comment on the stumble. He simply stood beside Indominus for a moment, then continued walking when Indominus did.
At one point, Thori stopped and turned to face Indominus, who stopped and looked back at him with the focused attention he gave to Raven's presence and, increasingly, to Thori's.
"When you are bigger, I will teach you how to deal with evil people. I am good at it. You will be good at it too."
Although he didn't understand the words, Indominus understood the warm tone meant for him. He answered with a short, low sound, tilting his head slightly and watching Thori with the trust of an animal that knows someone is safe.
Thori appeared satisfied with this response.
Ethan, seated on the garden wall with elbows on his knees, watched the interaction from a distance and chose not to intervene. The rapport between Thori and Indominus seemed comfortable; Ethan decided to let their routine continue as is.
He had dealt with stranger things this year.
---
In the mid-afternoon, Jean and Madelyne appeared in front of him in the kitchen doorway, and the first thing he registered was that they were wearing identical clothes.
Looking at both of them, he took in their appearance.
They always looked alike—same genes, same face, similar build. Most days, their differences showed: Jean's distinct bearing, Madelyne's unique energy. Over months at the house, Madelyne had become her own person. Usually, Ethan knew right away who was who because of these differences.
On this day, with matching clothes and hair arrangements, both of them stood with the composed attention of people who had coordinated a joke and were committed to it; the similarities had been amplified and the differences reduced.
While Jean looked focused and a little amused, Madelyne seemed more cautious, genuinely curious in a way that felt personal, even if she hadn't quite figured out why.
Ethan studied both of them for two seconds, eyes moving between Jean and Madelyne to assess them carefully.
He identified Jean.
"Morning,Jean," he said to Jean. Then, to Madelyne: "Morning, Prior."
With both of them looking at him, Jean's expression moved toward more interested. Madelyne's expression stayed careful, still processing.
"How did you know?" Jean said.
Ethan paused. The real answer was scent—after months with Jean and his heightened sense of smell since October, he always knew. Matching clothes couldn't hide that; scent goes deeper than looks. He had known who was Jean before looking, but he knew that answer wouldn't go over well.
"I just know."
Unconvinced, Jean looked at him with the expression of someone who did not fully believe this and was filing it in the category of things she would return to.
With a quieter expression, Madelyne looked at him. Her curiosity was real and searching—she wondered how he could tell them apart so easily, and what made the difference. She didn't ask, deciding to let it go for now. Whatever answer she wanted, she wasn't ready to ask for it yet.
"I'll figure out how eventually."
Possibly, Ethan thought.
He went back to what he had been doing, which was making coffee, and the moment passed.
---
The evening assembled the household.
Thori's arrival made this more common—his presence added a gravity to the main room, like a fire does: not by taking space, but by drawing attention.
The couch had been claimed by Thori.
He had claimed one end of the couch. He settled there with the certainty of someone who'd picked their spot for good. He made this decision on his first night; no one argued. Rogue shifted her seat to make room. Thori was warm, so that was the coziest spot.
Indominus was on the floor.
Although he still fit in the main room, Indominus now occupied much more space than when Raven first brought him home from the Savage Land—young apex predators grow fast. His head rested near Raven's legs, his favorite spot, and his eyes were half-closed in the relaxed but alert way of an animal that felt safe.
They watched television.
From 1992, they watched something lively enough to fill the room without needing everyone's full attention. Thori watched with his head tilted, as if he was trying to figure out what television was all about. At one point, he made a short sound at the screen, maybe as a comment on what was happening, though no one could tell what he meant.
Rogue had her feet up on the ottoman and was really into the show. Jean was half-reading, her book open beside her, able to split her attention easily. Raven sat close to Ethan on the couch, her shoulder against his, fully present in the way she always was when she had decided to stay.
Madelyne sat in the armchair she had started to prefer over the past few weeks. She was present without being the center of attention, engaged enough. She seemed more relaxed than she had two months ago. She wasn't completely at ease—the carefulness was still there—but she had softened enough that it showed.
Ilyana sat on the floor near the armchair, her back resting against it and her book open across her knees. She had picked the floor for no particular reason and was clearly comfortable there.
Ethan looked around the room: the couch with its hellhound, the floor with its young dinosaur, the people in their places, and the television quietly filling the space.
He thought again about the space on the floor. Indominus would be much bigger in six months. The doorway between the hall and the main room was fine for now, but soon it wouldn't be. And the floor itself—the weight of a full-grown T-Rex was more than the house was built to handle.
He wondered whether he should reinforce parts of the house in advance. Maybe some doorways should be widened now, while it was still easy to do.
Then he looked at Indominus, half-asleep with his head near Raven's legs, at Thori on the couch next to Rogue, and at the whole scene together.
He honestly didn't mind if this became a regular part of life.
He knew it was unusual to be looking at the idea of a full-grown T-Rex in his living room and mostly feeling good about it. But the strange had become normal for him since October, and by December he had stopped thinking of it as a problem.
He put his arm around Raven, and she leaned into him. The television kept playing, Thori made another sound at the screen that no one could understand, and the evening unfolded just as it should.